


The Story of Our Lives

by fhartz91



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Light Angst, M/M, Mention of Past Violence, New York City, Piercings, Romance, Tattoos, mention of Adam Crawford
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 01:44:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7782067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/fhartz91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt - Since they were teenagers, Kurt and Blaine have been mapping the important moments in their lives with tattoos - from Kurt's first one, they've been trading off tattoos and piercings until they're both covered. Each tattoo has a story, even if the story is silly or the tattoo is a little rubbish. Their bodies are the story of their lives together, and how they've become the people that they are. </p><p>I diverted a little bit from this and made it a love story with a smidgen of angst in the beginning. Also, this AU assumes that Blaine and Kurt graduated the same time, and met maybe sophomore year-ish(?) It's not stated. It's sort of implied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FyrMaiden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FyrMaiden/gifts).



“So, have you decided what movie you want to go see?” Kurt asks, peeking his head out the bathroom door and checking to see if Blaine has finally narrowed down their options.

“No, not yet,” Blaine says, going back to the top of the page and scrolling down the listings again, hoping that this time something will leap out at him. Cinema has definitely hit a low point recently in Blaine’s opinion. Even the revival theater downtown is running nothing but duds. What he wouldn’t give for a decent Claude Rains retrospective, or a return of the _All About Eve_ / _Showgirls_ double feature. If worse comes to worse, they can wait a few hours and hit up the midnight showing of Rocky Horror at Bow Tie Cinemas in Chelsea. At least that way they can sing and dance together the way they used to back in high school, with the added perk of throwing popcorn at the screen.

When Blaine looks at it that way, why do they ever go to see any other movie?

“You know, Adam texted me earlier that he might head out to see _The Birdcage_ at a theater in The Village. You like that movie. Maybe I should call him up and we can all go together.”

“Or maybe we could, you know, like, _not_ do that,” Blaine grumbles under his breath. He hears Kurt start singing _We Are Family_ and sighs. He shouldn’t get so pissed at the mention of Mr. Perfect Adam Crawford, but he can’t help himself. Ever since Kurt joined that damn show choir, _Adam’s Apples_ , Adam Crawford, its benevolent leader, is all Kurt ever seems to talk about.

_Oh my God! Adam has the cutest accent! And it doesn’t disappear when he sings!_

_Wait till you hear the set list Adam picked out for this year’s College Winter Regionals! And the choreography he came up with? Too bad we didn’t have his help with the New Directions. We would have been epic!_

_Did I show you the video I recorded on my phone of Adam and the Apples performing Baby Got Back? It’s so hilarious, and yet so genius!_

_Adam told me today that I look like a young Paul Newman! Isn’t that the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard?_

Blaine slides down in his chair and runs his fingers through his hair, stopping and pulling when melancholy sweeps in. Kurt and Adam are going to start dating soon. Kurt hasn’t said anything yet, but Blaine just knows it. He feels it in his chest where his heart won’t stop aching. He doesn’t begrudge Kurt dating Adam if that’s what he really wants. He doesn’t begrudge Kurt dating _anyone_. But the two of them have been single together for so long that Blaine was beginning to think he might have a chance.

Selfishly, Blaine’s not ready for this yet.

“Well, you’ve been looking at that computer screen for twenty minutes. I don’t think the selection’s going to change.” Kurt steps out to help, buttoning the last button of his shirt underneath his chin. Blaine watches, slowly raising an eyebrow at Kurt’s uncharacteristic display of modesty. Kurt rarely buttons his shirt to the top button. He usually leaves at least one undone. Plus, he had rushed to the bathroom the minute he got home to change into the shirt he’d picked up from the dry cleaners. That’s not like Kurt. Not anymore.

Kurt _had_ been shy about his body once upon a time. Back in high school, he avoided taking his shirt off in front of anyone, even in the locker room after gym, opting to race home and shower during lunch instead. But that was then. Several years, the Atkins diet, and an onset of puberty later, Kurt is comfortable taking off his shirt pretty much anywhere, _especially_ when he’s home alone with Blaine. Though after they lost their virginities to one another during their junior year (in one of those silly high school pacts that you normally read about in cheesy YA novels) Kurt hasn’t been shy at all about changing in front of Blaine.

Ducking into the bathroom to change his shirt is a small aberration, but where Kurt is concerned, small things are usually the most notable ones.

“Uh, no,” Blaine says, still distracted by Kurt’s shirt. “It’s a toss-up.”

“Well, you mentioned two movies a few days ago that you said you were interested in,” Kurt reminds him, leaning over Blaine’s shoulder to look at the screen, “and according to this, they both start at eight. It’s six forty-three now. We’d have more than enough time to…”

Kurt brushes against Blaine’s shoulder and hisses. Blaine watches Kurt throw a hand to his chest and pat a spot lightly. Blaine’s brows draw together in the middle with concern at how much that one touch obviously stung.

“Kurt” - Blaine watches his best friend roll his shoulder, readjusting _something_ underneath his shirt - “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, purposefully dismissing Blaine’s question. His eyes travel back to the computer screen to avoid Blaine’s worried gaze. “Everything’s fine. Why do you ask?”

“Well, because it looks like you might be in a bit of pain there.” Blaine slowly gets up from his chair so he can look Kurt in the eyes.

“Pain? Where?” Kurt looks caught in the act, but of what, Blaine doesn’t know.

“There,” Blaine says, indicating Kurt’s chest where his hand rests slightly over his heart.

“Oh.” Kurt drops his hand as if he didn’t realize where it was. “No. I just…” Kurt rolls his shoulder again, and this time Blaine hears a crinkling noise coming from under Kurt’s clothes. Blaine jerks his head back as if this new development is entirely inconceivable.

“Did you…get a new tattoo?” Blaine asks in an accusatory tone – but not mad accusatory.

 _Hurt_ accusatory.

“Well, I…” Kurt stays stuck for several minutes, debating what he should do, but then he moves his arm unintentionally and that crinkling noise makes another appearance.

Kurt opens his mouth to speak, but stops when he realizes he’s about to lie. He doesn’t want to lie to Blaine. Damn that new parlor on 36th Street and the funky bandages they use that sound like frickin’ cellophane every God damn time he moves! He had had every intention of changing out the bandage when he got home. He headed straight for the bathroom under the pretense of changing his shirt. He rifled through the cabinets for the box of tattoo-friendly bandages they usually kept on hand, only to find an empty container with a neon pink Post-It stuck to it that said (helpfully) _Please buy more_.

It was in Blaine’s handwriting. Kurt should have taken that as a sign.

Kurt sighs. He has no choice. He unbuttons his shirt and reveals what Blaine already knows is there.

“You got a new one?” Blaine points to the black, rectangular bandage taped to Kurt’s chest over his heart. “You got a new tattoo, and you didn’t tell me?”

Kurt looks down at the bandage covering his latest piece of ink. His newest masterpiece. He was so elated when he got it, but now he feels guilty. Blaine is his best friend, and Kurt had wanted it to be a surprise. But now, he’s not so sure it was his brightest idea.

“Yeah,” Kurt says, carefully smoothing out the wrinkles in the tape. “I got it this afternoon after school. It was kind of spontaneous, but…I’ve been thinking about getting it for a while.”

“But…you haven’t mentioned anything.”

“I…I’m sorry, Blaine. I’m so _so_ sorry but…I didn’t know how.”

As hurt as Blaine is, he understands that. Tattoos are very personal things. But the ones on Kurt’s body, and, subsequently, the ones on Blaine’s, are kind of _their_ thing. It started with Kurt, as a way to commemorate an important moment in his life. In that case, a totem to empower him, to show the world that he would rise above the bullying he’d been enduring while in high school, and to remind himself that it gets better. That’s what the tattoo was supposed to say. _It gets better._ He was underage at the time, and had to get a fake ID to have it done, but he knew it’d be worth it…until he discovered too late that the artist had messed it up. Well, to be honest, _Kurt_ had messed up by not double checking the print out he’d made for the artist to go by before turning over his flawless, alabaster skin.

Kurt was devastated when he saw it. There he was, wanting to memorialize the fact that he wasn’t a loser, but instead he’d marked himself as an f-up for life. Just par for the course for Kurt Hummel, he’d said.

But he got it fixed. It was Blaine who encouraged Kurt to go back. He even went with Kurt, and in solidarity he got the exact same altered tattoo so that they’d match.

_It’s got Bette Midler._

Kurt thought he’d be able to stop at the one. After all, as he was always saying, their bodies are their instruments. They couldn’t be marking themselves up left and right. No one would ever hire them if they were covered in tacky butterflies, Taylor Swift song lyrics, and cartoon characters. But years later (after discovering a little miracle worker called Dermablend body makeup), the both of them had two fully completed sleeves. Most of Blaine’s arms are decorated in an homage to the things that had helped him overcome adversity – his fencing foil, his boxing gloves, a vintage Shure 555 microphone to represent his years of singing on stage, the first piece of music he had written and recorded in a professional studio, his Fender acoustic guitar. Kurt’s are more family focused – his mother’s name, a ‘67 Olds Cutlass (the first car that he and his dad rebuilt together), his favorite birthday present – a pair of sensible heels, a floral teacup in honor of the many tea parties his father sat through with him, the bicycle his father taught him how to ride without training wheels, his first pair of ballet shoes and his favorite pink tutu. The only part of Kurt’s body that was still mostly bare was his chest, as was Blaine’s back, and whereas a good amount of Blaine’s left leg was filled, Kurt’s right leg bore his ink.

And it wasn’t just tattoos. They got a few piercings here and there, but those became kind of a competition.

Kurt’s tongue was the first – a consolation prize curtesy of the tattoo artist who did his first tattoo, given to him when Kurt went back to have it fixed ( _after_ Kurt tore him a new one, so the offer was generous considering).

The piercings in Blaine’s ears started as diamond studs in his lobes, both of which became 0 gauge tunnels later on, inspired by Kurt’s friend and bandmate, Elliott.

Kurt’s left eyebrow got a piercing and, for a while, his septum, until his dance teacher Cassie July told him _no_. She could overlook the eyebrow ring (she might have slipped in something about it being hot, he chose to forget that bit) but to lose the nose ring. She wouldn’t be held accountable if a stray shoe buckle during a wayward fan kick tore his nose off altogether. He stopped wearing it just for dance class, but it became too much of a hassle, and he let that one go completely.

Blaine eventually got his lip pierced – a subtle, lip-hugging hoop off to the right side and in gold so that most people barely notice it. It’s in the corner of his mouth that had been bruised most when he got jumped in high school and pounded into the pavement by a handful of homophobes after a Sadie Hawkins dance. He pierced his lip there to remind him that even though they broke his wrist and drove him away, they didn’t keep him down.

Kurt had contemplated getting his nipples pierced, but after their friend Puck got his nipple ring torn out in juvie, he decided to pass.

They stopped entirely after Blaine bit the bullet and got a Prince Albert piercing. He claimed he got it in the grand tradition of making his tighter-than-healthy pants fit better. Kurt didn’t buy that excuse for a minute, and it burned him with jealousy fantasizing about the lucky guy who’d get to try that one out.

After that, Kurt declared Blaine the winner and put an end to poking holes in their bodies.

Kurt and Blaine are best friends, utterly inseparable, and have been since high school, but they never dated seriously (aside from sleeping with each other that one time, which Kurt doesn’t feel counts). Kurt had more than entertained the idea of dating Blaine, but he didn’t want to destroy their friendship. It was too precious, too important. Boyfriends in his life had come and gone, and a few of his platonic friends, too, but Blaine was his one constant. He was the one who stayed, the one who went with him to New York (though several people had joined in on the original plan), the one who had always been there, from his father’s heart attack (commemorated by a human heart bound in razor wire on his right shoulder); to his rejection, then acceptance to NYADA (celebrated by a tornado of blackbirds on his right flank, flying towards a rainbow staff of music); to the death of his stepbrother Finn (memorialized by Finn’s name signed on his collarbone). And just as Kurt has accompanied Blaine when he got every tattoo he has on his body, Blaine has been there for every single tattoo Kurt has on his, sitting by his side and holding his hand.

With the exception of that first one…and this one.

“Kurt” - Blaine takes a nervous step closer - “ _why_ didn’t you know how to tell me? What happened? What…what is it for?” All Blaine can think is _it’s over his heart. It has to be his dad._ Something happened to his dad that he’s not telling Blaine. But no. That’s impossible. If something happened to Kurt’s dad, Blaine would be the first person other than Kurt to know. Suddenly, Blaine feels cold. Oh no. What if it isn’t his dad’s heart? What if it’s Kurt’s? Kurt’s doctor had prepared Kurt for the possibility that his father’s heart disease might be genetic. What if Kurt found out that he had it, too? That’s something he’d want to commemorate. It might even be difficult enough that he would need to do it alone.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” Kurt begins, and Blaine holds his breath, expecting the worst, “because…it’s kind of…a name.”

Blaine lets the breath go. In his gut he feels relieved, but he doesn’t stop feeling cold. In fact, he starts feeling sick. His lips pull tight and he nods. He can see where this is going.

“It’s Adam, isn’t it?” Blaine asks, voice strained and teeth clenched. _Of course it’s Adam. It has to be Adam. After weeks of hearing his name in conversation, who the hell else’s is it going to be?_

“Adam?” Kurt chuckles gently. “No…no, it’s not.”

“Then…then who is it?” Blaine starts thinking of everyone they know, trying to remember if Kurt has started talking about any one person more than usual, but he draws a blank. There’s that guy Xavier from their stage fighting class who ogles Kurt every chance he gets, but Kurt doesn’t seem to reciprocate. “Is it someone new? Someone you haven’t told me about?” Blaine’s lower lip wobbles, and Kurt sighs. Somehow telling Blaine isn’t going as easy as he thought, so he decides to show him.

Kurt peels the tape, slowly easing the bandage away from the fresh ink. He doesn’t want to reveal it in pieces, but it’s hard not to with Blaine’s eyes tracking his every move. So, consequently, Blaine’s jaw drops before Kurt is halfway done.

There, over Kurt’s heart, is the simplest but possibly one of the most important tattoos he’s gotten so far, one that he had hoped would spur a whole story across the remaining blank spots on his body of dates and symbols representing courtship and a wedding and the future. Even if it didn’t, even if it stopped everything here in its tracks, it would still be one of the greatest pieces of art he wore on his skin.

“That’s…” Blaine pauses to swallow and steady his voice. “That’s my name. You got my name tattooed on your body...” Blaine holds out a hand, fingers shy of touching the bold blue lines and swirls that join together to form the single word _Blaine_ in what Blaine recognizes as Kurt’s own distinctive script. “Over your heart.”

“I…I didn’t know how to tell you,” Kurt says apologetically. “I-I was afraid you might not feel the same way, and you’d tell me not to do it. I didn’t want it to make things awkward between us, but…I wanted it, Blaine. I wanted it so badly because…”

“Because…?”

Kurt shakes his head, exasperated because by now the answer should be obvious. “Because I love you, Blaine. I’ve loved you for so long. I want to be with you. And not just for one night like we were, and not as just roommates like we have been, but as boyfriends, and lovers, for as long as we can be.”

“I…I don’t know what to say,” Blaine admits, eyes glued to Kurt’s tattoo as if nothing else in the world existed.

Kurt shrugs. “Then…don’t say anything, I guess. Because if I’m wrong and you don’t feel the same way, I don’t want to know. I just want to go on from here as if nothing ever happened. I want…”

Kurt stops short when Blaine drops his head and reaches for the hem of his shirt. Kurt doesn’t understand what he’s doing, but he doesn’t say a word. He watches Blaine lift the hem and pull the shirt over his head, revealing a white tank top and, peeking through the fabric, a patchwork of art that Kurt knows so well, it might as well be inked on to his own skin. Blaine tosses his shirt aside. He takes a last look into Kurt’s eyes, a last fluttering glance at the new tattoo, his own name glistening beneath a layer of clear ointment, and lifts the right corner of his tank top.

It’s not difficult to see, but as Kurt hasn’t gotten the chance to see Blaine completely undressed lately, being the dead of winter, he can see why he missed it. Over the curve of Blaine’s hip, cresting like a wave in complimentary shades of blue and silver, almost the exact same colors that Kurt chose, is the most glorious rendition of his own name that Kurt has ever seen.

“But, that’s….that’s _my_ name.”

“Yup,” Blaine says, running a hand over his hip with a bashful smile on his face. “It is.”

“But…” Kurt shakes his head in confusion. “But you didn’t tell me.” It feels like déjà vu when those words hit the air. “I…I don’t understand.”

“I got this a few weeks ago” – Blaine rests his hand over the tattoo, not to shield it from view, but to give him courage – “for the same reasons as you. I didn’t know how you’d feel about it, but I needed to have it…for me. I was going to show it to you when I got home, but then that Adam guy asked you out for coffee and I thought…I thought for sure the two of you were going to become an item, the way you talk about him all the time and stuff. I thought that there was no way…”

“No,” Kurt says, privately wishing that Blaine would move his hand off the tattoo so he can see his name again, permanently embedded in the skin on Blaine’s hip. And oh dear God! What a glorious place to have it! “I mean, he’s nice and all, but he never had a chance.” Kurt shortens the distance between them a step farther, needing Blaine’s closeness more than ever. “It’s _you_ , Blaine,” he whispers. “It’s _always_ been you.”

Blaine breathes sharply, taking those words in like air into his lungs. “Kurt, I…” But at that moment, Blaine can’t think of another thing to say, so he acts instead, rushing forward and doing something he’s wanted to do again for years, since that first time they made love. They’d shared other kisses since then, pecks on the lips and on the cheeks as befitting best friends, but nothing like that first kiss.

Nothing like this one, either.

“Oh, Blaine,” Kurt whispers softly. “You take my breath away. You always have.”

“I feel the same way,” Blaine says, glad to be able to say it after all this time. Blaine looks at Kurt’s lips – so soft and close, tempting him to find a way to convince Kurt to stay home so that he can worship his mouth, and his whole body, the way he’s been dreaming of for ages.

“So…did you still want to go out?” Blaine asks, raising a hand and letting it hover above the exposed tattoo on Kurt’s chest.

“I think,” Kurt says, slowly tracing the curve of Blaine’s hip with the tip of his finger, signing over his name again and again until he feels Blaine shiver, “that I’d like to spend a little more time getting acquainted with this tattoo. I don’t think I’ve gotten a good enough look at it. I think I need to see it” – Kurt’s eyes flick from the tattoo textured by goose flesh, to Blaine’s mouth, lips parted in anticipation – “close up.”

Blaine nods, the next word out of his mouth a murmur as Kurt’s lips meet his. “Okay.”


	2. A Hole in the Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the story of the time Kurt accompanied Blaine to get his Prince Albert piercing. (It's descriptive in the clinical sense, but nothing gory.)
> 
> This second chapter is written in response to a request by itallstartedwithharry on tumblr.

“Elliott says he’ll catch up with us later for dinner” - Kurt relays the message, shoving his phone into the back pocket of his jeans - “but he wants me to let you know that _you’re his hero_.”

Blaine can hear the eye roll in Kurt’s statement, but that doesn’t stop him from beaming with pride over the fact that he’s doing something that Mr. Tattooed-and-Pierced-to-his-eyeballs Elliott “Starchild” Gilbert has yet to do.

“Well, I won’t let it go to my head… _ba-dum-bum_ ,” Blaine says, seizing the opportunity to make a vulgar pun.

“Ha…ha,” Kurt replies dryly, but he smiles at his adorkable best friend anyway.

It was Elliott who actually recommended the shop that they’re in – _Andromeda_ on St. Mark’s Place. It’s smaller than some of the other studios they’ve gone to in New York, but it’s clean, and Blaine is impressed by the art on the walls. But most important of all, it’s a place they haven’t been to before.

If Blaine makes a fool out of himself today, they’re never coming back.

Kurt starts thumbing through an old issue of _Skin Deep_ as Blaine flips through the pages of a more recent _Inked Magazine_ the tattoo parlor has in the waiting room…but Blaine isn’t reading a word. He tried when he first opened it, but they all seem to glop together into a single run-on sentence, one that he’s not sure is even written in English.

“So, you’re _sure_ you want to do this?” Kurt asks, trying to sound casual as he scans an article titled _Fifty of the Greatest Rock Star Tattoos._

“Of course, I do,” Blaine says, trying for the hundredth time to convince him. “I would think that _you_ of all people, with your appreciation for fashion, its rich history, and its kooky trends, would understand this.”

Kurt dramatically flips to the next page. “You _know_ I’m not buying that, right?”

“Come on, Kurt. You can’t tell me that you’ve never considered getting one.”

“Blaine” - Kurt turns in his seat to face Blaine, putting a hand on Blaine’s magazine and lowering it to look into his eyes - “I am telling you honestly that I have never, ever, ever, _ever_ considered getting my dick pierced.”

“It’s not the whole thing. Just the head,” Blaine jokes.

“Pfft.” Kurt sits back in his chair. “That’s bad enough. Even the thought of it makes me queasy.”

“And yet you came with me.”

Kurt tilts his head in Blaine’s direction and smiles. “Of course, I did.” He puts a hand on Blaine’s knee, and Blaine puts his hand over it. “I _always_ will.”

Even though the shop seems relatively empty, they’ve been waiting for forty-five minutes, which is fine by Blaine. He’s already decided that he’s perfectly happy to wait for another forty-five minutes, but the platinum blonde receptionist behind the counter calls his name.

“Blaine? Blaine Anderson?”

“Yes?” Blaine launches to his feet, dropping the magazine on his seat. Lopsided, it slides off the chair and lands with a noisy _clap_ on the floor.

“We’ve had a cancelation, so we can fit you in right now if you want.”

Blaine shoots an anxious look at Kurt bending over to pick up the magazine. Kurt gives him a supportive smile and a thumbs up.

“Great,” Blaine confirms. “The sooner the better.”

Kurt stands and, with a hand on Blaine’s shoulder, pushes him forward toward the counter.

“That also means you get to choose who does your piercing today,” the receptionist says as if that’s the most fantastic news. “Micah or Ashley.”

Ashley - a curvy but petite young woman with shoulder length, crayon red hair, and eyes so shockingly turquoise that Kurt has a hard time believing they’re natural - waves at them with a bright, perfectly penciled, black-lipped smile, while her coworker Micah – wavy brown hair pulled away from his piercing green eyes and back into a ponytail, wearing a black _Skrillex_ tank top and jeans that are more holes than fabric - slowly looks Blaine over from his dark curls to his thick boots, giving him, and _only_ him, a flirtatious half-grin. Blaine bites his lip and looks away, cheeks turning red more from knowing that Kurt’s going to react than from anything close to attraction.

And Blaine loves that. He loves the protective side of his best friend.

Kurt doesn’t disappoint. He aims a razor-edged gaze at Micah and fumes. Kurt can’t stand obvious leering. Blaine’s not too fond of it either, but it’s also nice to imagine that the reason behind Kurt’s claws coming out might include a hint of jealousy.

Maybe a little.

Blaine can dream.

“Ashley. He wants Ashley,” Kurt jumps in, looking from the smiling young lady back to Blaine for his approval. “Ashley, right?”

“Sure,” Blaine says with a shy smile for the woman who’s about to get up close and personal with his junk in about two minutes. “I’ll go with Ashley. Ashley’s fine.”

“You know” - Micah steps forward, arms crossed, superiorly unimpressed with the outcome of this decision - “since this is _Blaine’s_ appointment, and _Blaine’s_ going to be the one getting the piercing, _Blaine_ should be the one who picks who he’s going to be comfortable with.”

Kurt’s eyes turn from their usual cool grey-blue to unforgiving steel, and Blaine’s smile disappears.

“I am.” Blaine loops an arm through Kurt’s. “That’s why I’m going with Ashley. Ashley makes my _best friend_ comfortable, ergo she makes _me_ comfortable. And thank you so much for helping cement that decision for me.”

Micah’s smirk turns into a scowl directed mostly at Kurt. With a shake of her head, Ashley walks in between her coworker and her customer.

“Turn it down, Micah. It’s Blaine’s dick I need out, not yours.” She motions to a door at the opposite end of the shop. “Right this way, gentlemen.”

Blaine immediately follows Ashley, but Kurt doesn’t leave without flashing Micah a triumphant grin.

“So, do you want to have this piercing centered?” Ashley asks, leaving the drama in the waiting room with her sour-faced associate. “Or off to the side?”

“What’s the difference?” Blaine asks.

“Well, some people think that centered is the most aesthetically pleasing” – She opens the door and leads Blaine and Kurt inside – “but off to the side is usually more comfortable, especially if you’re uncut.”

“Uncut’s not an issue,” Kurt remarks, as if the status of Blaine’s foreskin is common knowledge, “but considering the jeans you wear, Blaine, I think I’d go for comfort.”

“Yeah,” Blaine agrees, sounding less confident about his decision with every step, “I think you’re right.”

The room they enter is not much different from the private work spaces in other studios they’ve been in. The walls are painted white, with bright lights overhead - the optimum conditions for piercing, Kurt assumes, since most spots they go to have this exact same set up. It gave him the creeps the first time he got a piercing. With the vinyl upholstered table in the center and the surgical-looking instruments on silver trays nearby, it reminded him too much of a hospital examination room. Kurt doesn’t have a positive history with hospitals, not after his mother’s cancer and his father’s heart attack, but this constant exposure is helping him to overcome that.

Who knew the unexpected side-effect body piercing would have?

“I’m going to need you to lay down here and open your fly,” Ashley says, patting the table as she walks past toward a counter laid out with tools that look like they would feature prominently in the Marquis de Sade’s bedroom. Kurt is no stranger to piercings, and neither is Blaine, but one large device Ashley picks up that looks kind of like an industrial hole-punch makes Kurt want to hurl.

“Do I…need to take my pants off?” Blaine asks.

“Nah,” she says, nonchalantly snapping on a pair of black latex gloves ( _Kurt notices that the brand of gloves she uses is Black Widow, which seems strangely foreboding_ ), not looking at all concerned that she’s about to poke a hole through the most sensitive part of Blaine’s body. “I don’t need you to drop trou. I just need access to your penis.”

“I bet you haven’t had a girl tell you _that_ before,” Kurt chuckles.

“Not in the last twenty-four hours,” Blaine comes back quickly.

Kurt’s laughing stops so fast, Blaine can hear it skid to a halt, and Ashley snickers.

“Also, I’m going to need you to put this on.” She lays a square, blue drape over his crotch. “Make sure your penis goes through the hole.”

“O…kay.” Blaine holds it up and looks at it. It has a hole cut smack dab in the center. Blaine’s face goes sheet white when he sees it. He puts it aside and reaches down to undo his trousers. His hands shake as he loosens his belt. Kurt puts a hand over his.

“It’s okay,” he says, gently shooing Blaine’s hands away. “I’ll get that. You look like you’re about to be sick.”

“I think I _am_ going to be sick,” Blaine admits.

“It’s going to be fine,” Kurt consoles him. “Ashley here is a professional. Aren’t you, Ashley?”

“That’s right,” Ashley says sincerely. “This will only take about half a second, and then it’ll be over. I’ve been doing this a long time, and I haven’t had any complaints. Lots of satisfied customers…and partners.” Ashley winks at Kurt, and this time, _Kurt’s_ hands start to shake.

“Okay, so we’re going to be fitting you with a 10 gauge hoop today, but after it heals, you can consider stretching it to a larger gauge if that’s what you prefer. Now, I’m going to tell you what I’m doing while I’m doing it.”

“Do you have to?” Blaine gulps.

“Here…look at me, Blaine. Look in my eyes.” Kurt grabs a rolling stool from the corner and pulls it up to the table. When he sits in it, he’s eye level with Blaine, and able to pull his focus. Blaine turns his head to look at Kurt, eyes wide with alarm, but so trusting, as if everything wrong in the world will be okay as long as Kurt is there beside him.

Kurt knows how that feels. He feels the same way about Blaine.

“You’re going to feel me poke around a little bit,” Ashley warns him.

Blaine winces. “Yup. I definitely feel that.”

“I know that feels sharp. Just one more second…”

“What can I do to take your mind off it?” Kurt asks. “Do you want me to sing to you? Tell you a joke? Perform a soliloquy?”

“Kiss me?” Blaine asks, giggling nervously. That giggle of Blaine’s is dangerous - equal parts sweet and tempting. Kurt has no defense against it, especially now when Blaine is begging him for comfort.

“Here” - Kurt slips his hand into Blaine’s - “hold my hand. Squeeze it as hard as you want.”

“This is going to be a little cold…”

Blaine manages to remain stoic, staring into Kurt’s eyes while Ashley cleans him up.

“I’m going to insert a receiving tube into your urethra. This is actually going to be the worst part,” she explains in a sympathetic voice.

“Oh…okay.” Suddenly, Blaine hisses and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Don’t jump,” she says. “Hold still…take a deep breath in and let it out slowly…”

“Did you want to watch what she’s doing?” Kurt asks. “Eliminate some of the suspense?”

“Not one bit,” Blaine says.

“I wouldn’t either.”

“No, I mean…I like doing this, looking into your eyes like this.”

“Yeah,” Kurt admits, re-considering giving Blaine that kiss. It would only be _one_ kiss, and in the aid of a friend. What harm could it do? “So do I.”

Kurt has no clue what’s going on south of Blaine’s equator. He can guess, but he has no interest in turning his eyes away to check if he’s right. He sees Blaine’s lower lip wobble, and then his eyes shut again, his entire face pinched with pain.

“It’s okay.” Kurt rests his forehead against Blaine’s, giving him more of an anchor than just his hand to hold on to. “You’re doing great.”

“And you’re done,” Ashley announces. Kurt sighs, relieved and disappointed. He doesn’t like seeing Blaine in pain, but he wishes that could have lasted a second or two longer. When will he have another reason to hold Blaine’s hand and stare into his eyes?

Kurt can think of _one_ , but for the sake of their friendship, he can’t entertain it.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Ashley asks, chuckling ahead of time since she can guess what Blaine’s answer will be.

“On, _no_. Not at all,” Blaine tosses out with comical sarcasm. Kurt turns his head and laughs.

“ _Kurt_ ,” Blaine complains, “it’s not funny.”

“You’re right. It’s not,” Kurt agrees with a snort.

“Just so you know, it’s going to be sore,” Ashley warns.

“Maybe you should have worn looser pants,” Kurt kids, his body warming when Blaine rewards him with a weak smile.

“I don’t think I own any.”

“I’ll take you to Macy’s after this. I think they’re having a sale.”

“And it’s going to bleed,” Ashley continues, smiling at the two men she can’t honestly believe aren’t more than friends, “so expect that. It could bleed up to seven days, but I’ve never heard of anyone bleeding for more than one or two. Don’t get freaked out if you wake up in the morning and your dressing is drenched. It’s completely normal.”

Blaine swallows so hard it sounds like it hurt. Kurt runs a hand through Blaine’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp to calm him.

“Great,” Blaine responds in a wobbly voice, leaning in to Kurt’s touch, “because we all know how much I _love_ blood.”

“Don’t worry,” Kurt says. “I’ll sleep with you if you want so you don’t flip your shit in the morning.”

“Thank you,” Blaine mouths so as not to talk over Ashley’s instructions.

“You’re going to want to clean it with sea salt water several times a day, especially after you urinate. And here’s the fun part – you may end up being a sit to pee-er from now on.”

“Yeah,” Blaine says with a hiccup that wanted to be a laugh but failed, “I’ve heard that.”

“You can have sex, but you’re definitely going to want to wait until the soreness is gone. And you’re going to want to wear a condom while you do for the next two months.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be too much of an issue, unless I need to wear one while I masturbate.”

“No” - Ashley gives Kurt another side-eye glance that makes his cheeks pink - “I think you should be good then.”

Blaine nods. “Kurt? H-how does it look?”

“Oh…uh…you want me to…okay…” Kurt turns his head to take a peek. It’s not that Kurt hasn’t seen Blaine’s penis before. They change in front of one another constantly; have showered together out of necessity, especially in the middle of the winter when they know the water heater is only going to give them enough hot water for one shower. They’ve also had sex together once, lost their virginities to one another, and that’s why looking is so difficult. Kurt has carried the memory of that first time with him every day since. It’s marked him like one of the many tattoos he wears on his body - literally. He and Blaine commemorated it by having the date inked underneath their armpits, in a spot where they’d have to lift up their arms and look in a mirror to see. On that not oft glimpsed patch of skin, it could be kept private and close to their hearts. But Kurt knew why Blaine wanted this piercing. He’d accidentally stumbled across the articles bookmarked on Blaine’s laptop. Kurt knew it had nothing to do with _fashion_ …or with him.

Ashley holds off on putting the final strip of gauze around Blaine’s piercing so that Kurt can look and report back.

“It looks…good,” Kurt says - a nice, neutral comment. “She did a great job.”

Kurt always thought that Blaine’s penis was beautiful – cut, and not intimidatingly large or thick. But with that piece of jewelry in it, it’s absolutely mouthwatering.

“Let me do up your jeans,” Kurt offers when Ashley finishes, but Blaine doesn’t let go of Kurt’s hand.

“Thank you,” he says, pulling slightly so Kurt will come closer, “for being here for me.”

Kurt smiles. He kisses Blaine on the forehead, lingering longer than usual when Blaine loops his arms around Kurt’s neck. “Blaine, no matter what, I’ll _always_ be here for you.”


End file.
